


◎camera

by sonshineandshowers



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Drama, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:26:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23959162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonshineandshowers/pseuds/sonshineandshowers
Summary: There's no glamor being a security camera, the 24/7 surveillance making sure everything is at ease, just the way Mr. Endicott likes it.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 8





	◎camera

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Quinny_555](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quinny_555/gifts).



Underestimated.

That's me. I am the camera, the 24/7 surveillance making sure everything is at ease, just the way Mr. Endicott likes it.

9:07, front door alert. 9:30, water running in sink five. 10:19, motion detected in living room. Days of all the same activities, disarming the residence.

There's no glamor being a security camera. An installation crew went to Ms. Blanchard's apartment. A maintenance man visited Mr. Bright's loft. All white glove service. This camera? Self-installed — nothing like the others.

No one needed to head to Claremont — their cameras were old as dirt. Mr. Endicott had direct feeds to every second of Dr. Whitly's time. A trove of evidence to use against him when their repartee went sour.

This camera was special to monitor the other Whitly’s Mr. Endicott couldn’t see. They hovered around their mother, two wandering ducklings nearly finding themselves beheaded before she drew them back in. Somehow still the center of their universe even though they were long grown and should have learned some element of self-preservation.

But if they had, there wouldn’t be sitting ducks to work with.

Compromises.

I’m on the slimmer side to fit into tight spaces. Have a knack for blending with surroundings. Run on WiFi. Sometimes forget upper class dress codes.

I’ve been monitoring the Whitly estate for _months_ , and Mrs. Whitly always thinks I’m doing something wrong. “ _We will be dressed business casual, Leonard. Vests are for valets._ “

And security cameras, _clearly_.

Leonard, with an L - e - o - n - a - r - d. Not that she’d remember.

No one notices when I sneak into Mr. Bright’s room and look for evidence of past indiscretions. When I pop into Ms. Whitly’s room and play with the little angels. When I try all Mrs. Whitly’s perfumes, and powders, and creams. Even dabble in the makeup sometimes.

“Leonard, why do you smell like the counter at Macy’s?” Well, maybe she notices a little.

Not enough to deem me ineffective.

She doesn’t realize the messenger is me, returning all the information I can to Mr. Endicott and giving her invitations when it suits him. Charity banquets, galas, dinner — all at my disposal. I even trade up for a better room.

“ _Not cool, Leonard_ ,” she complains.

Seems pretty cool to me. I get to smell the sweet scent of Mr. Bright.

Except it’s detergent, the sheets washed more times than countable in a bid to always have a bed ready for a kid who’ll never come back. Breakfasts, lunches, dinners — sure. Staying the night? Mr. Bright never has the entire time I’ve been providing surveillance.

Surveillance as a Service. The new SaaS. Runs better than the WiFi with a dead spot in Mr. Bright’s room. Time to move on.

“ _Strip, young man, strip!_ “ Mrs. Whitly demands.

Not exactly my type. But orders are orders in this caste structure.

“ _The sweater will be fine, dear._ “

The man my sweater goes onto? More up my alley. My polyester now knows what he smells like. Sweet cologne? A hint of musk after running through town? A touch of metal from the blood that lingers on his chest? What would that chest feel like under wandering fingers? What would the digits removing the tracker from my ankle feel like on my —

“Leonard — hide,” Mr. Bright demands, and I take off, just far enough to have clear line of sight to the police proceedings. Need to get a good view to report back to Mr. Endicott.

Maybe he’ll get me an upgrade. A new battery pack of energy drinks. New lenses for my tired eyes. 24/7 is a harsh schedule. A bonus for sharing all the Whitly’s activities so accurately.

But that’s just my job. Not bonus worthy. I need to go above and beyond.

I see Jessica out of the house, ensuring she goes on her way to Mr. Endicott, and setup to monitor Ms. Whitly. Camped out in Mr. Bright’s room, I can hear every step she takes across the carpet, every creak from the floorboards below. Call after call as she seeks more information on my boss.

I know how to get that extra money so I can get a new sweater to replace the old. Maybe even _cashmere_. I call and tell him, “Come here, come to the house — I can let you in. You can find all the pharmaceutical records you’re so worried about.”

Underestimated.

I swing open the door and his smiling face waltzes right in. He looks to the living room where Ms. Whitly is nursing a drink and tells me, “You can go.”

For being such an effective camera, I’m not supposed to watch him. But he doesn’t praise me, doesn’t even have the common courtesy say thank you.

So I setup in the next room, perfect viewing distance through the open double doors. Watch as Mr. Bright storms the living room. Capture every word in my infinite recording capacity. Learn about warrants for Mr. Endicott’s offices and his involvement in a stabbing. Note how angry they all become.

Then there’s a gun.

Should I call 9-1-1?

Is that in the job description?

 _Shit_ , why would I think like that?

I catch information about more killings and everything gets shaky. Declaration that Mr. Endicott deserves to die. Where had I gone wrong trying to excel at my job? Above and beyond. Above and beyond.

A huge spray of blood covers Ms. Whitly in a spatter pattern I was never able to get right on Halloween. Perhaps the answer was to do some slicing. With a steak knife. Or was it a cake knife? So much fancy silverware in that drawer I wasn’t supposed to be in.

I pound my sweaty fingers into my phone screen, having to press some of the buttons multiple times. “I’m L-Leonard S-Simms, my boss-s threatened the family I’m w-working with, a-and Ms. Whitly knifed him. There’s-s a lotta blood.”

“What’s the address?” the operator asks.

“Uh, I’m new in town.” I try to get myself to look at the floor, the ceiling, _anything_ to get my eyes off Endicott Pool, but there’s tacky crimson in the middle of the taupe rug. _Fix it, Leonard,_ Mrs. Whitly’s voice haunts my mind.

I can’t. I’m surveilling to gather pharmaceutical records. N-not this. Not death. No.

11:20PM, recording stopped.

The screen goes black.

* * *

_fin_

**Author's Note:**

> quinny_555 wanted john mulaney's "I'm new in town and it gets worse" applied to any pson character, and it happened to fit in here


End file.
